


Damn You're Free

by twelvemorestopsandhome



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 06:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelvemorestopsandhome/pseuds/twelvemorestopsandhome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'She knows. Of course she knows.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn You're Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midnightblack07](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightblack07/gifts).



> For the asoiafkinkmeme prompt for midnightblack07: Jon/Ygritte + in which she survives the arrow wound and discovers she's with child...
> 
> Filled under kingtakesqueen on LJ.
> 
> Title from Jason Mraz's 'I'm Yours'

When she awakes from a sleep she believed she would never wake from, she surprises herself by immediately bringing her hand to her stomach instead of her wounded chest. 

She knows. Of course she knows. She had been taught the signs at a young age; suspended moon blood, tender teats, swollen abdomen. If there is anything Ygritte knows best, it is her own body.

When her hand does reach her wound she flinches at the pain and shifts slightly in an attempt to find relief. It is then she realises she is not alone.

‘Seems I was premature in my goodbyes, Jon Snow.’ Ygritte smiles, gingerly turning onto her side to face him.

He is leaning heavily against the back wall of the solar, arms folded across him as he stares at her as if she has three heads.

‘Is this your bed?’ she teases when he does nothing but continue to stare at her. ‘Bet the other crows ain’t pleased about that.’

When he continues to stare at her in silence Ygritte realises she can no longer tell him that he knows nothing.

***

Her wound is healing quickly thanks to the blind old man who asks her of life north of the Wall. He speaks to her of the Red Wanderer and the Moonmaid, of Gendal and Gorne, of giants and shadowcats and she finds herself becoming strangely fond of the old man.

In truth, in the aftermath of the battle, Maester Aemon is the only person she sees with any sort of constancy. She sees other crows in the yard rebuilding or coming to see the old man with wounds of their own. They stare at her just like Jon did and she knows they know.

When she attempts to leave on her third night at Castle Black, the old man is waiting for her at her door.

‘I don’t belong here.’ she tells him. ‘I’m a free woman. You cannot mean to stop me.’

***

They haven’t spoken about it. About any of it. Neither of them have said the words out loud. Any communication between them had been conducted from across the space of the quarters that had been giving to her. So when he comes to her after Maester Aemon has changed her dressing (and briefly rested a hand on her slightly swollen abdomen) the last thing she is expecting is for him to press his lips to hers.

‘Aemon tells me your wound is healing at a remarkable rate’ he breathes kissing her cheek and jawline.

‘We Free Folk are made of stronger stuff than you southerners’ Ygritte smirks grabbing the back on his head to pull him closer as he continues down her neck.

He only mumbles in agreement, sending vibrations against her skin.

‘Tis about time you pick a side, Jon Snow. Are you a crow or a free man?’ Ygritte pulls his hands away from her waist by the wrists and brings them to her stomach ‘I’m ain’t going to raise no weakling babe’

The reverence in which he kneels in front of her to caress her stomach makes Ygritte feel like she is witnessing a moment that does not belong to her.

‘I shall take no wife.’ he tells her skimming a thumb across the area where he knows her belly button lies under her layers.

‘I’m not your wife.’ Ygritte reminds him threading her hand through his raven hair.

‘Hold no lands.’ he continues working his hand underneath her furs.

‘A southron notion.’ she dismisses his words with a tiny tug.

‘Father no children.’ he whispers as his fingers make contact with her bare skin.

‘Nobody’s perfect.’ Ygritte pulls his head back so their eye meet ‘What are you Jon Snow?’

He smiles then and she knows the answer. ‘I’m yours.’

‘And yours.’ he adds bringing his eyes back down to where his hand now fully rests gently against the pale expanse of her stomach.


End file.
